Don't explode yet
Let yourself bleed
Don't close your door yet
The pain can cure anyhow
The cure to your wound
Is the thing that broke you
Close your door only to her.
I wish these walls would talk
Of your slavery in the dark
They would tell your throat’s pain
The countless times you remain
Talking throughout the night
Entertainer of the prized fight
Your buttons they push and poke
You overworked entertaining bloke
You are expected to carry the news
Tell the stories of the famed and abuse
If the walls that house your tired brain
Could talk how tired you are and lame
Then maybe someone would show pity
Allow you to rest so you could feel pretty
I bleed white
I am feared
hating each sight
skeptical to everything
reluctant to each
like a lone king
who to everyone beseech
and numb fingers
sweating forhead sips,
mind's sap and lingers.
often swooning around
and hiding behind
can be seen dead on ground
I am success hard to find.
Uneasiness or pain, due to loss best describes my existence,
My name is Sorrow and though many try to avoid me,
No one can keep their distance.
I live strongly in the families of Malcolm X, Dr. King and JFK,
Some use me as an inevitable excuse to escape the every day.
I will never die, though people kill themselves for me to continue my mission,
Whether you be rich, happy, beautiful
I strike you in any condition.
Like a common cold, I don’t disappear, Im just dormant
But happiness is a medicine, not a cure
To strike you, I need no consent
WE USED TO BE SO CLOSE INSEPARABLE TIGHTER THAN ANY PAIR OF BLUE JEANS.
NOW WE ARE GOING DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS IT ONLY SEEMS AS IF WE WERE NEVER CLOSE.
IT SADDENS MY HEART TO US THIS WAY THERE IS NOTHING I WISH FOR THAN FOR THINGS TO BE THE WAY THEY USED TO BE.
I TRY TO GO ON BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME IT SEEMS AS IF WE ARE NOT IN CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER.
YOU BECAME A MOTHER AND I MOVED AWAY BUT I KNOW DEEP IN MY HEART.
WE DRIFTED APART AND BECAME DIVIDED INTO OUR OWN WORLD.
It wasn't that I stopped loving him
or that I don't love him
not even I never could
It was the sheer fact that he hurt me too much
and in all the blood shed I learned
he hated me as he moved on
It wasn't even he made fun of me
or gossiped on the phone
it wasn't that he let me go
It wasn't even he never said he was sorry his children died
it wasn't even the fact he called me a liar
to everyone he did or did not know
It wasn't that he denied me or lied about loving me
or even how many times he called and hung up
it wasn't that he followed me all over the net
It wasn't that he wrote my name out or turned me in
on a site I found on my own to get over death and grief
or even how his wife threatened me
It wasn't the amount of years he still clings too closely
or that he told everyone I was the one following
it wasn't all those poems about my virtue
Not even that God had thrown me out of heaven
that God himself did not want me around
or how his family hated me
No, that it was not,
what it was, I don't even know
the feeling I am in so much pain I hate the thought of love
I am honored to know he is making his life right
with a delightful imitation of who I am
it is an uplifting thought to have someone want to be me so bad
Somewhere along the way he ensured me, I did not want to be loved
it is not that I wish him dead or hate his soul
I just hate I let him be a part of my precious growth
I hate that I trusted a man like him or fell in love
so the truth about the matter is not I hate him at all
that is what it wasn't, and never will be
What it is, can now be a simple clause
I hate myself even more for ever falling in love
I hate myself for giving so much of myself to everyone
He made me see I was disposable, and easily tossed along
~something I had always known~
but what he didn't do was make this known when we were alone
So, in fact the one I hate is me, the woman never known by none
the fact that I am weak and maybe God did cast me down alone
maybe life for me is always what I have always known,
but wasn't what I thought, at all
There is something
Sad about ghost
Who have not yet
Found their way
Tomorrow is our future
Just another day
They bring that prospect
Closely to mind
I pity the ghost
A projection from life
That live's threw time
I pity the ghost
For the role they played
And yet and still
I am not afraid
I pity the ghost
Who have no space
For the tragedy that
They've had to face
They should be revered
And not to be the subjected
To some kind of ghost chase
Fore they were once people
Who have lost their place
They are the true figment
Of the people who have died
And for whom so many have cried
Most of them were subjects
Their salvation denied
Fore some-how they
Were left so un-alive
Left to survive in spirit only
Maybe that is why
Some of them seem so lonely
There is a reason why
They shouldn't be treated that way
Fore what they need
Is for some-one just to pray
They have so many questions'
And emotions that which they
So prominently display
Only if they could some-how
Reconcile their spirit's that way
Then may-be somehow maybe
They will just go away
To say the least
They will be not reason
For them to go astray
The forest might not be mine,
But in my dreams i still cross that line.
my memories cant be forgotten
as i picture animals getting rotten.
I still want to hunt with pain,
but not to dream with any blood stain.
No to hunting,taking all animals as a pet
I hold them with care without a bullet,
though I have a meal without flesh
is like drinking water which is not fresh.
my career is no longer to kill,
But to watch the forest from a hill
My last words as I hunt no more
As I enjoy nature by the shore.
is it a waking dream?
is it a waking nightmare?
it be the thoughts of the deserted,
those who have nothing left to lose,
the ones who can go mute without a second thought,
the ones whose dreams overflow with the blood of others,
for they are the ones who see the sinister truth,
the end isn't near its always been there,
for you see the end is not when the world ends,
it is the last day you feel complete,
it is the day you feel worthless,
the day you see only the dark side of things,
the moment you imagine slaying the beast of which caused your pain,
for that is the day the innocence known as your "inner child" is finally slaughtered,
and when your become...,
UNSPOKKEN WORDS ARE MEMORIES LOST,
...COUNTLESS TIMES THE UNSPOKEN WORDS,
THAT HAVE CLOUDED MY HEART.
SCREAM OR SHOUT ANYTHING BUT SILENCE!
CALL OUT MY NAME AS I CALL OUT FOR YOURS,
MY SOUL LONGING FOR YOUR ACCEOTANCE AND LOVE.
LOOK INTO MY EYES AND YOU WILL FIND MY SOUL.
TOMORROW WILL COME AND MANY DAYS AFTER,
YET TODAY WE SHALL NEVER SEE AGAIN.
SHALL WE LOSE TODAY AS WE DID BEFORE?
IS TODAY THE DAY WE BEGIN TI HEAL?
UNSPOKEN WORDS HOLD DARKNESS TO THEM,
THEY THRIVE ON SHADOWS,
THAT WE HOLD WITHIN,
HIDING FROM OUR CONSCIOUSNESS.
HOLD CLOSE TO YOU THE PRAYERS,
I'VE PRAYED FOR YOU,
I LONG TO HOLD YOU CLOSE
TO MY HEART IN A CHILDS WAY.